Rule Breaker
by LoyaltyFalters
Summary: "Love is an odd thing. It's beautiful as it is deadly, lovely as it is horrific and just full of adventures waiting to be explored. The truly confusing thing about love, however, is the fear it brings to the hearts of the people who covet it. They desire it so utterly, that they can only see it for its flaws, and their fear swallows them whole." After Tartarus. Rated T.


_I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. That quote down there is mine, though. _

* * *

_"Love is an odd thing. It's beautiful as it is deadly, lovely as it is horrific and just full of adventures waiting to be explored. The truly confusing thing about love, however, is the fear it brings to the hearts of the people who covet it. They desire it so utterly, that they can only see it for its flaws, and their fear swallows them whole. Love is dangerous, but to many… It is worth the risk of pure terror, because it wouldn't be love without it."_

Percy woke up to a face right above his. A very _familiar_ face, with its golden tan and soft honey curls framing it elegantly. Two sharp, swirling grey eyes stared down at him with an unreadable expression he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

"Wise Girl," he mumbled sleepily, a fair amount of confusion in his voice. They were in their apartment's only bedroom, and if Percy wasn't nineteen already, he was sure he'd be blushing over the fact that they were both completely naked. Not to mention Annabeth had managed to crawl on top of him while he was sleeping. He clumsily reached out a hand to stroke her still flushed-from-sleep face.

"Good morning," Percy grinned. Annabeth continued to gaze at him unblinkingly.

"Morning," she muttered back tiredly, before looking down at his chest blankly. Percy blinked, squirming a bit in discomfort. Usually, when he woke up in the morning, he would find Annabeth in her bra and panties, cooking breakfast with a little smirk on her face and an apron loosely tied around her hips. And while he wasn't particularly upset about this new wakeup-call, he couldn't help but be concerned by her lack of morning enthusiasm. Her being an early bird was new, true, but that didn't mean he hadn't gotten used to the new—_now old?_—routine.

"Annabeth…"

"I don't get it, Percy." Her words were soft, but to Percy it was like she had screamed them in his ear. He jumped a little, and stared at her with large, expressive green eyes.

"Don't get what, Wise Girl?" He questioned, cocking his head to the side as he propped himself up by his elbows, still allowing her to lounge on his chest. "Is…Is something wrong?" The son of the sea-god bit his bottom lip, it oddly full and luscious for a boy's. He knew how to fight a titan with his bare hands, but understanding women was a whole new level of crazy. Annabeth shook her head, her stormy eyes never straying away from his tanned torso. Percy's own tempestuous orbs narrowed, darkening so startlingly that they looked almost navy.

"Annabeth," he warned lowly. She shook her head again.

"I just don't get how you do it." She delicately kissed his collarbone, and he automatically stiffened up, as if hit. "Even after Tartarus, you still manage to be... _you_." Percy blinked.

"I guess I just realized it wasn't worth it." Annabeth stared, but he continued on. "I mean, I could have pouted about it for months, years even, but where would have that gotten me? It would have been like I'd never gotten out of Tartarus." He shuddered a little, his voice taut with pain. "What brought this up?"

Annabeth hesitated. "I had a dream. We were surrounded by hellhounds, and Tartarus had finally started to affect our minds." Her eyes darkened to a dim grey, almost black, and a stray curl fell into her eyes. "I could see you falling to the ground again, screaming and tearing at your hair like it was in flames… _Gods_, Seaweed Brain, I just don't know how you do it." Percy slowly shook his head, his dark crown of messy ringlets quivering slightly.

"I still have nightmares," he told her honestly. "I see you slumped against that stupid rock we used for our hideout, blood dripping down your temple and lips almost blue. I had never been more scared." He chuckled bitterly, "I thought you were dying."

"I thought I was, too." Percy sighed, gently cupping her cheek. He leaned his head forward, and the smell of her lemon shampoo assaulted his senses. It was nice to do small stuff like this; it helped him remember that they were still alive. The war wasn't over, but that chapter—the chapter of Tartarus—was finished. Percy just found it hard to remember that, even after two years. He had forgotten that Annabeth might feel the same way.

He was _such_ a Seaweed Brain.

"It's over now," he consoled her; his tone was soft, "and we're never going back." Annabeth bit her lip.

"You can't know that, Percy." The son of the sea-god scoffed.

"I can," he said firmly. "I won't _let_ us go back again. I _promise_." It was odd, but little promises always made her look happier, _lighter_. He didn't know why; Annabeth knew as well as he did that _that_ promise was total bull. Percy couldn't promise anything anymore. Just _try_. The nineteen-year-old didn't think just trying fixed anything. You don't just _try_, you _do_. But it made her happy, so Percy would pretend that he didn't feel completely useless. Besides, when Annabeth beamed down at him like she was now, even if a bit unsurely as she looked, everything suddenly felt worth it. Percy smiled back.

…And his breath hitched as she began to trace the silvery scars on his chest.

Percy flinched a bit, body jerking away from her graceful hands. "U-Uh…" he mumbled pitifully. He let out a startled exclamation of protest as she pressed her fingertips to a spot between his ribs. A desperate whimper passed his lips. Annabeth smirked.

"Maybe, Percy, you should stop worrying about me, and let me worry about you." His cheeks flared up pink, and he turned his face away from hers.

"_Maybe_," he agreed weakly, gazing back at her shyly. "But since when have I ever followed the rules, Wise Girl?" She didn't have an answer to that, and doubted that she ever would.

"Touché."

* * *

This is connected to _I Can See The Sharks, Mommy_, but I'm not sure whether to use _Some Mangy Mutt_ or _I Should Look More Like My Favorite Color_ as the childhood background for this. I'd look at the first story mentioned, though, at the very least.

This is NOT connected to _Pain_, and is more like a different version of what I think happened in Tartarus. I like this version better, actually.

~Loyalty


End file.
